


Not The End Of The World

by aspermoth



Category: Original Work
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Heartbreak, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspermoth/pseuds/aspermoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking up isn’t the end of the world. But for Annie, it certainly feels like the end of <i>a</i> world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The End Of The World

It's a very odd feeling, breaking up. Very odd indeed. I would've expected it to hurt, to be agonizingly painful, so bad that I just want to die, and bone-achingly sad. But it isn't sad, and it doesn't really hurt.

Well not yet, anyway.

We - Jerry and I - are sitting at a picnic table on the edge of the school field. It's a favourite hang-out of ours - quiet, private, shaded by the branches of a silver birch tree. It's around the back of the science block, right out of the way, where none of the other students bother to go and we can be alone.

Oh, it's not that we get picked on or anything: we don't. But the way that Jerry speaks, and the way that I dress, tend to earn us some odd looks and silly comments quite regularly, and sometimes, we just want a little bit of peace and quiet to ourselves. Doesn't everybody?

Jerry is - was - well, _my_ Jerry. He's been here for two years, and we've been dating for over half that time, now. Either way, he's just told me that he's moving back to Tennessee, until he starts college, at least. Parental commands: no way to thwart them.

He's holding my lace-clad hand across the table. I want to squeeze his tightly, pull it closer, make him promise that he'll never leave me. But my fingers won't obey: they stay limp. I think it's the shock. Because this... this break-up, it doesn't hurt - not yet - but it _is_ a pretty big shock. Like my stomach's been hollowed out, or my heart's been injected with Novocain, or maybe both at the same time. I'm not exactly sure. Everything feels so uncertain. I want him to hold me.

He looks at me with his big blue eyes full of doubt.

"You understand, right? You're not mad?"

"No, no, of course I'm not. I, just... I'll miss you."

"Me too, Annie, me too."

I can hear the bell ring; it's time to go back to class. We stand up, he and I, no longer a unit. He kisses my cheek.

"Goodbye, Annie."

"Goodbye, Jerry."

And that's the end of that.

~*~

It’s funny how your friends sometimes do entirely the wrong thing for entirely the right reasons. You hear all these entertaining stories about girls helping their friends to burn mementos of their ex or key their car or what-have-you: I guess that’s what my friends expected me to want.

At the park. I’m sitting on one of the swings, idly pushing myself back and forth with the toe of a pointy boot. Carrie and Ruth are on either side of me. Carrie tucks a red curl of hair behind her ear and kicks the ground.

"My God, he’s such a jerk! I mean, in a time with, like, the Internet and phones and all that shit, why wouldn’t he want to stay with you?"

"Pig," Ruth mutters darkly. "Men are pigs."

Ruth is a hardcore 'feminist' who doesn’t quite understand that feminism is promoting equality of men and women rather than espousing the idea that men are inherently awful.

I chew my lip.

"I guess he just doesn’t want to hurt me. In case he meets somebody back home, I mean."

"Bullshit!" That was Carrie. She swears too much.

"She’s right," Ruth says. "You wanna come round my place for a bucket of ice cream?"

I smile faintly. "I’ve got to be home by six tonight. Tomorrow?"

"You’d better be there."

Carrie pats my arm reassuringly.

"It’s alright, Annie. After all, it’s not the end of the world, is it?"

~*~

It’s not the end of the world.

I’m pondering these words as I lie on my bed in my determinedly darkened room (blinds closed, lights off, bed curtains drawn tight).

Is that true, though? That a broken relationship isn’t the end of a world?

Surely it is. Or if not _the_ world, then certainly _a_ world. The world you built together. The world where you two were one. Everybody claims that they don’t do it, but they all do. Even the most mature teenagers, who insist that they know their relationship won’t last, build themselves their own little worlds together.

I know I did, no matter how often I tried to hide it.

I liked to imagine a future for us, maybe the old house with the white picket fence and the dog and two-point-five children. You tell yourself that you won’t pick out names for these hypothetical kids, but you do. You pick your favourites. You can’t help it.

And then suddenly, something comes along and that world is destroyed. Your dream is shattered. It’s not the end of the world? Get out of here – it is.

I liked the names Jeff and Hester.

Okay, now it’s starting to hurt.

~*~

There’s a knock at the door. It’s bound to be my mother; there’s nobody else in the house. I wipe my face with a tissue, probably smearing my make-up beyond repair, before parting the bed-curtains a little and peering out.

"Hello?" My voice sounds nasal and hoarse. She’ll know I’ve been crying.

"Annie, it’s your mother. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, come on in."

She opens the door and walks in. I pull back the curtain properly so that she can sit down on the bed, but she stays standing up.

"Jerry?" she asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Broken up?"

"He’s moving back to Tennessee. Thought it would be for the best."

I can feel the pain now, like a little stone in the centre of my chest that grazes the flesh every time my heart beats. It isn’t quite as bad as I’d expected – it’s not sharp, not agonising, but it’s just so persistent. I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, smearing black eyeliner across my skin.

My mother sits down on the bed near me, the corners of her eyes crinkled by a concerned, comforting maternal smile, and starts stroking my hair.

"It’ll pass, sweetie, it’ll pass," she murmurs. "It’s not the end of everything."

"I know, I know. It just… feels that way right now."

There’s a short silence. Then my mother gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze and stands up.

"Still, no use in hiding up here sulking about it, right? Best thing to do when you’re feeling sad is something creative."

"Like what?"

She pauses for a moment, thinking.

"Feel up to baking some bat cookies with me?"

I smile, a watery, washed-out smile. My mother knows me very well indeed.

~*~

The next day: Jerry’s last day at our school. I pass him a note in History class, asking him to meet me at our picnic table. And sure enough, when I show up, there he is. He’s wearing a white shirt that I love to see him in. When he sees me, he smiles, walks over, kisses me on the cheek. Always the gentleman.

"You wanted to see me?"

I hand over a box of bat-shaped cookies with a shy smile.

"It’s a going away present. So that you won’t forget me."

"I’d never forget you, Annie. Never."

But he takes them anyway. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to keep that promise. Just as he doesn’t trust himself to keep faithful to me when I’m not around.

"I love you, Jerry. Keep safe."

I hug him one last time, holding him close, enjoying the warmth and solidness of his body.

"I love you too, Annie. I’m sorry."

I kiss his cheek this time, leaving a faint black lipstick mark, and we part for the last time.

But at least it’s on my terms.

~*~

Back in the park with Carrie and Ruth. I’ve just finished explaining what I did for Jerry. Ruth is definitely opposed to the idea – she thinks that Jerry should have bought something for me, not the other way around – but Carrie thinks that if it makes me happy, then it’s alright. Ruth fixes me with a penetrating stare.

"You. Me. Carrie. Films. Ice-cream. You’re not getting out of it this time, Annie."

I laugh. It feels good to laugh.

"I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get going, eh?"

I link arms with my two best friends and we set off for Ruth’s house, one world lying in pieces behind me, but hundreds and thousands of new ones just waiting ahead of me to unfold.

After all, it’s not the end of all worlds.


End file.
